


Reset

by kittyface27



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Depression, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Horror, Loop, M/M, Mystery, Mystery Illness, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Teach doesn't exist, Temporary Character Death, Terminal Illnesses, Tragedy, ace dies but don't worry, ace keeps dying, impossible medicine, in 2 parts, marco x ace but not the main focus, rebirth kinda, some characters not tagged due to obvious spoilers, whitebeard nurses - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:27:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24401296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittyface27/pseuds/kittyface27
Summary: Ace got sick and died. Then he came back. He got sick and died. Then he came back. And it continued even as the Whitebeards desperately wanted and tried to find a way to get him cured from this cruel and terrifying illness. Was there a way for these resets to end? And what if they never would? contains graphic depictions of illness.
Relationships: Fuschichou Marco | Phoenix Marco & Whitebeard Pirates, Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco & Portgas D. Ace, Fushichou Marco | Phoenix Marco/Portgas D. Ace, Portgas D. Ace & Whitebeard Pirates
Comments: 11
Kudos: 128





	1. Part 1

**_Warning: this story contains graphic descriptions of illness._ ** **I have tons of "reset" fics in my google docs. Where a character comes to life and then dies again over and over. I have posted one awhile ago that is similar to "reset fics" but it not like this one. This was one of the originals, and I finished it. For me, it's short. Only a little over 20,000 words, and is in two parts. I'm already posting a ton of other stories, so this one will be in two parts. Includes made-up medical stuff. I'm editing this when I should be trying to work on my final (gonna fail, help me). Oh, Marco x Ace established relationship. And if you want (for some reason) to see how Ace should look during his time, look up the show Containment on Netflix. It ain't pretty. Enjoy~**

* * *

Ace walked through the ship, heading to his and Marco's room to just sleep the rest of the day and night. He didn't feel good, and was coughing. The nurses told him he just had a bad cold and should stay in bed and have food brought to him. They knew Thatch would gladly make him food to help him get better. But no one wanted him to spread it around. After all, there were hundreds of pirates. One ill person could spread it to the rest.

He flopped onto the bed and pulled the blankets over him tightly, curling into a ball. He had taken some medicine to make him less congested and plugged up. But he still coughed, making it hard to sleep. They was strong coughs, but Whiskey had told him he was fine. And he trusted the nurses, so he was sure he just had a cold. He wanted it to go away, it was annoying.

Ace finally fell asleep after an hour straight of coughing. He didn't wake up when Marco came in for bed, and changed Ace out of his shorts and into his pajamas, knowing Ace wouldn't wake up until morning. The first mate got a glass of water and put it on Ace's nightstand on his side of the bed, along with some pills to help him if he still felt crappy the next day.

He did. He felt worse, and Marco was sure he had a temperature, which was odd for someone made of fire. But Ace was human too, he got sick like any other person. Marco had to brief the commanders for both his and Ace's report, as no one wanted him at the meeting. Sick pirates were bad, but sick commanders would be much worse. And they didn't want him anywhere near the captain.

Marco was fine since he was immune to any illness, which was lucky or he'd have to stay in a different room from Ace. The younger man was still asleep when Whiskey came in after Marco alerted them that he thought Ace had a fever on his way to the meeting.

Whiskey entered the room with a mask on, not being able to afford getting sick, even if it was a cold. She walked over to him and tapped his shoulder to wake him up. "Huh?" was his answer. He was so tired. He had to pee but didn't have the energy to get up from the bed. He'd hold it in for as long as possible.

"How are you feeling Ace?" Whiskey asked, voice barely muffled by the surgical mask over her mouth and nose.

"I feel like crap," he said, pulling the blankets tighter around him.

"I'm going to take your temperature," she said, and he nodded, opening his mouth for her to put the disposable tool in. When she pulled it out, she looked relieved. "No temperature. That's good, it means your body doesn't need to fight off any sicknesses. I'm sure it will get better by Sunday." It was Friday. "Just make sure you get plenty of rest, okay? I'll come check on you in a couple hours."

Ace nodded, and adjusted his pillow before dozing off again. The cough had faded, leaving just a sore throat. He was glad the cold would go away, it was annoying and uncomfortable. He slept the rest of the day, only waking when Marco brought him food. It was mostly soup and applesauce, which Ace hated. He wanted meat and bread!

Marco sat next to him, and Ace smiled. "Whiskey says I'll be better in a few days. Stupid cold can't defeat me," he said, though his voice was a bit scratchy. Not too bad, but he wasn't coughing anymore. Marco smiled.

"Damn straight. We're nearing an island in a couple days, so if you're better you can come on. Maybe we can go get some candy or something," Marco said. Ace smiled, looking forward to getting taffy, his favorite kind. "I have to go again, but I'll come bring you some more food before dinner. I know soup isn't going to make you feel any better."

Ace thanked him with a smile. "Sleep tight, baby," Marco said, and kissed his forehead. His face wasn't sweaty anymore. He fell back asleep, feeling much better. Until he woke up four hours later. He was much more sweaty than earlier. His head hurt a little bit, and he had to go to the bathroom.

Walking was difficult, which was annoying. Maybe he was just tired still. The room had been dark the whole time since he was sick so he could sleep easier, but when he saw himself in the bathroom mirror, he frowned deeply.

He didn't look good. He was drenched in sweat, his face red. Then he vomited into the sink. It was mostly liquid luckily. But… did most colds come with nausea and vomit? Maybe he just ate too much and his body was reacting. He was still sick, even if it had seemed it was going away.

But he had a bad feeling, and not just from being sick. He made sure to wash the sink and get the vomit down the drain, scrubbing the basin with a rag with soap that he then threw into the small trash can the bathroom had. It was nice having the biggest bathroom of the commanders, since Marco was also the first mate.

He left the bathroom and then room, before he headed down the halls to the infirmary. People were not in this part of the ship, since it was mostly the higher ups' bedrooms, some offices and the infirmary. The galley was on another floor, so they were most likely there.

After all, it was night time if his bedroom's porthole was real. Not late enough that everyone was asleep. Not that everyone was ever asleep at the same time. But Ace didn't run into anyone, though he did vomit again, all over the wood floor. He sighed, hoping no one would step in it. But now he was more worried. He tried to go faster, but he couldn't. He was slow.

He began to cough, though it wasn't as bad as it had been. He could tell sweat was dripping off of him, soaking his pyjamas. It was like he was a fountain or something. He didn't throw up again, but at least the walk to the infirmary wasn't so bad.

He entered it, grabbing the door handle and pushing it open weakly. "Whiskey," he said, voice scratchy. He stumbled inside, and the nurses came out, smiling and expecting him to be better. He wasn't, and sat on the bed. Immediately, the nurses put on protective gear. It scared him, and he threw up again. How did he have anything left in his system?

"Ace, can you hear me?" Whiskey asked, and he nodded, she forced him to lay down and he did. The bed wasn't as nice as his and Marco's but it was better than nothing. "What happened?"

Ace coughed, and then said, "I feel worse. I threw up twice," he explained. His temperature was taken, and Whiskey had a determined face on. She didn't tell him what it was, worrying him. Instead she told Tami to rope off the hallway. That had happened before. Jozu had once gotten ill, and it looked bad, so they quarantined some of the ship. They were very thorough with not getting anyone else sick. Not letting the sickness spread and do as it wished with everyone on board.

She walked back to him, and took his hand. It almost slipped out of her gloves as he was so sweaty. "Your temperature is dangerously high, so we'll be keeping you in here for now," she explained. Ace groaned, hating staying in the infirmary.

"What's wrong with me?" he asked in deep worry.

Whiskey never lied to her patients, but she seemed like she was contemplating it, before she chose not to. "Well, I don't know. That's why we have to make sure no one else catches it. On the previous island, did you eat anything? Touch any sort of strange plant? Something like that could have gotten you sick."

Ace thought, not remembering much about the island. It had been boring. "We went hunting. I caught some animals and ate them. I was the only one to eat them," Ace said. Whiskey asked what he caught, voice light even though she was worried.

"Mm… a deer. We caught some bats, I thought they'd taste nice to fry," he said, but Whisky sighed. "What?" Ace wondered. He cooked it, surely it wouldn't have had any sort of illness.

"Well, bats carry a plethora or different diseases and pathogens. It's best for people not to touch them, let alone eat them," she explained, though she wasn't angry at him. She was never angry at her patients as long as they hadn't injured themselves on purpose.

Ace asked why. "They fight them off easily. Some theorize they produce so much waste that the pathogens don't have time to infect their immune systems. So it will be hard to figure out what kind of disease you seem to have contracted from them. It could be multiple illnesses, which makes it harder." Ace was now very worried.

"Can I be treated?" he asked in worry. Whiskey softly bonked his head.

"Of course. We have to get on it quickly. I'm sorry I dismissed it. You truly had all the symptoms of the common cold," she said in regret and shame. Ace smiled at her.

"Don't feel ba-" Ace started to say before his whole body started to shake like he was having a seizure. Whiskey held him down, keeping his head steady. His eyes were misty, like he was starting to fall asleep. It was lucky Whiskey had a face shield on when Ace couged against it. He eventually stopped seizing and opened his eyes. "-d. I don't blame you."

The nurse looked at him strangely. "Ace, what just happened? Did something weird happen just now?" Whiskey questioned, expertly hiding her panic. Ace looked confused and shook his head. Then he threw up all over his chest.

Whiskey cleaned it up without a second thought. He apologized for the mess. "Ace, did you throw up on your way here?" she asked calmly. He nodded. "Do you remember where?"

He took in a deep breath. "In the commanders' hall. No one was there," Ace said. He apologized for the hassle, and she said, in a comforting voice, "We roped it off, so no one should be coming across it. We want to keep you isolated, so that, in case this is contagious, it won't ravage the ship."

Ace was concerned with her being so kind. She took his hand in her gloved ones. He took shuddering breaths and smiled at her. "D-Don't worry, I'll be okay."

"I know, you'll fight this off, you're strong," she assured him.

"That's what Marco said."

"And he was right," she said. Ace nodded, and tried his best to hide his fear and pain. He was terrified. He asked if he could see Marco, since he couldn't get sick. "We can give him a hazmat suit. We have two of them for men."

Ace frowned, confused. "But, he can't get sick." Whiskey nodded, but said that the germs could still make their way onto his clothes and skin. "He kissed my forehead this morning. Is he gonna get sick?"

Whiskey's face was pinched. Tami had come in, saying she'd roped off the commander's hall. "There was some vomit on the floor, so I put a caution sign over it. How is he?" she asked, walking over.

"Keep the gear on. Don't take it off," Whiskey said strictly. "And go get Marco, now. If he defies you, tell him Ace is sick. That'll get him here in a hurry. And tell him not to touch anyone else." Ace looked scared. Did it spread from him to Marco to other people? Was it his fault? Well, it was. But he hadn't known eating bats was so bad.

Marco hurried in, and he was promptly stripped of his clothes besides his underwear and forced into the chemical shower, to get any pathogens off. His clothes were put in a bag with a hazard sign on it. When he came out, he hurried to Ace, but Tami stopped him. "You need to put a hazmat suit on to be near him."

The first mate nodded, and cooperated being in a suit. Ace thought he looked funny in it. That shade of yellow didn't go with his skin color. He walked over and took Ace's hand. "You look funny," he said tiredly. Marco chuckled.

"So, what happened?" he asked, voice light, trying to hide the fear on his face.

Ace frowned. "I didn't know bats were sick all the time. I caught one and cooked it and ate it. Apparently that's bad," he explained. Marco sighed.

"You'll eat anything won't you?" he asked, though it was fond. He clearly wasn't happy with the outcome, but it was from Ace's policy to eat anything that looks like it could taste good.

Ace smiled tiredly, and said, "Well, I won't anymore." He started to cough again, his throat hurting. Marco rubbed his hand through Ace's hair. He told Ace that he'd feel better soon. But then Ace couged the hardest and sprayed blood across Marco's mask. Droplets were all over the plastic. The first mate was shoved out of the way, hands shaking. It was a blur as the nurses tried to keep him comfortable. It was terrifying that they clearly had no remedy to help him, they were just being nice and reassuring him.

He was so out of it, he didn't seem to register that he'd coughed up blood. Blood started to come out of his nose, and Whiskey put a tissue in front of it immediately. "Head hurts, Whiskey," he complained, and some more blood came out of his mouth.

She gave him a shot to make him sleepy, to make him be unconscious while his body rebelled against him. Marco was doing his best to hide tears. "Marco, alert the crew to not enter the commanders' hall, no matter what," Whiskey said in a clipped voice, the kindness gone now that Ace wasn't needing comfort. She was back in doctor mode.

They had a den den mushi that was in the galley and the main hall in case anything of this sort happened. It was a ship wide message. Marco nodded, and took his glove off and grabbed the ded den mushi.

"Whiskey has said no one is allowed into the commanders' hall, no matter what. Don't come into the infirmary either," and he turned it off. Tami ordered Marco to help her quarantine Ace's area and then to take the suit off so it could be disinfected. He left the room shaking. Tami had wiped the door handles that Ace had touched.

They put up plastic sheeting and covered some instruments with plastic before leaving the room and putting plastic sheeting over the commander's hall. Marco was immune and Tami was decked out in gear. They covered every surface, even the puddle of liquid vomit. Tears were streaming down Marco's face. He was terrified.

Marco and Ace's room had red tape on the door. No one could enter under any circumstance. Ace had touched so many things in there since he'd become sick. "Marco, now is not the time to panic. You're going to shower again and then go brief Pops on the situation." He was in his underwear, and now he couldn't get any changes of clothes.

But they were all men, so being in his boxers was nothing. He didn't even have his shoes. Tami finished the work and then headed back to the infirmary. Marco ran down the hall to find Pops, and ran into Thatch, who looked scared. He didn't respond to his question and just asked where Pops was. "In the library I think."

Marco ran off, and arrived and slammed the doors open. "What happened?" he asked darkly. Probably already expecting Marco to find him.

"Ace is really sick. Our hall and the infirmary are quarantined now. He… he coughed up blood all over me." He started crying, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I w-was in the hazmat suit, so I'm okay."

Pops got up and hugged him tightly. "Do they know what he's sick with?" Marco shook his head, explained that Ace had eaten a bat, and that they carried so many diseases it was ridiculous. "So there's no treatment?" the captain asked, fear and worry coloring his voice. Marco nodded, and Pops sat down, putting his face in his hands.

The captain had a soft spot for Ace.

Some commanders made their way in, all looking worried and confused. Before any of them asked anything, Marco told them the situation.

"But he had been doing fine before!" Haruta said in a panic. Thatch was openly crying, him being closest of the pirates with Ace besides Marco.

Marco shrugged, had no answer about what happened. Thatch said he wanted to visit him, but Marco firmly said, "No one is allowed in there right now. They've sectioned off that part of the ship. No one can go there, so you guys can't sleep in your rooms tonight."

No one was bothered, more worried about Ace. Everyone was so scared. Scared for Ace and scared for what could happen. How this could be the end of the Whitebeard crew if it spread and was fatal. But no one voiced that concern, even though it was in the front of everyones' mind.

-x-

Ace had stopped coughing up blood, but now it was worse. He wet himself in the bed, but didn't notice. He thought he was crying in fear. It wasn't tears that were coming out of his tear ducts. The nurses didn't tell him his eyes were bleeding. He was scared enough as it was. "Am I gonna die?" he asked in terror.

Whiskey lied and said, "You'll be okay, Ace. You're just going through a rough spot right now." He was delirious and started crying about wanting to see Luffy. Whiskey had one hand while Tami had the other. Both of them were now in hazmat suits as well, having discarded their original protective gear except for the face shields.

"I'm so scared," he whimpered. He'd burned off the sleep medication almost immediately, which meant that any other medication would be useless as well. All they could do was try and lower the fever and keep him comfortable.

"Don't be scared, Ace," Tami said kindly. "You have to be strong to fight off this enemy. You never run from any enemy, right? This is just one more. Once you fight it off, we'll have a huge banquet. Tons of taffy and meat and alcohol," she assured.

Ace smiled and said, "That sounds nice." Tami rubbed her gloved hand over his forehead. "An' I'll win at poker, too."

Whiskey laughed. "I'm sure you will." Then Ace frowned, and said he wanted to cuddle with Marco. "You can't right now, Ace. I'm sorry, we can't let anyone else get sick. We can set up some den dens so you can talk to the others. How about that?" Ace nodded very slightly.

Tami got a den den that was connected to the meeting room. It was loud and obnoxious, so anyone even relatively nearby could hear it. It also echoed through the halls. There was an answer. "Hey, Vista. Ace wants to talk to everyone," Tami said, and there was shuffling on the other end. Whiskey took the snail and covered it in plastic. They couldn't afford to get sick as well.

"Hey, guys. Appar'nly eatin' bats isn' good," he said, sounding out of it.

Haruta said, "That doesn't even sound appetizing." His voice was lighthearted, though the nurses could tell it was forced. Ace apologized for throwing up Thatch's food, but the chef pointed out how many people threw up his hard work when they had hangovers. Ace coughed harshly and then laughed. It was weak, but he sounded happy to talk to them.

"When we dock on the island, we'll get you tons of food so when you wake up we can have a feast," Izo said. Ace smiled at that. "No more bats, though."

"Promise I won'. I'm tired now. I'ma take a nap," he said, voice slurring. There were some gasps on the other line, but no one said anything but, "Sleep tight." Then there was some crying on the other side.

Pops took the den den and asked if Ace was in critical condition. He didn't ask if Ace was going to die, though the nurses knew that was what he meant. "We don't know. There's no cure we have for this. He could have any type of pathogen, or multiple ones at the same time. He's in really bad condition, but he still has time to fight it off."

"Can we not see him?" Thatch asked quietly, voice high. Tami said no. "What about cooking him food?" Tami said no again.

"He's throwing up too much to eat, we'll have to give him nutrients. And we can't afford anyone to come in. Marco can't come in anymore, either. There is no chance that we will let this sickness escape this room. As long as Tami and I are in hazmat suits, we should be fine," Whiskey explained.

"Will you tell us when he wakes up?" Haruta asked in a very high voice. Tami confirmed that they would.

Over the night, Ace rapidly deteriorated. He couldn't sleep and was awake through all of the pain and fear. His head hurt so bad, he was achy everywhere. His stomach was cramping and parts of his body spasmed while other parts couldn't move. He had never been so scared in his life. The only good thing he saw of dying would be to see Sabo and meet his mom. Not Roger, no thank you.

He didn't want to die. He didn't want to end his adventure because of a bat. He felt so stupid, but he just hadn't known. He didn't ever recall even talking about bats with anyone.

His brain started to feel fuzzy when he was given a ventilator to help him breathe. He hadn't coughed or thrown up in a couple hours, but he did have trouble breathing. He was hooked up to a water drip and some nutrients.

The wheezing stopped and he closed his eyes slowly. He was so tired, why was he awake if he was so damn tired? It was stupid. He finally closed his eyes, thinking he may be able to sleep now, finally. His eyes slid shut and all the beeping went haywire. Whiskey had been in the room, examining his blood while Tami slept.

Over a day later he woke up in a body bag, and promptly started screaming.

-x-

Ace was covered with a towel as his body was cleaned and disinfected. It was so hard for the nurses to do. They were crying the whole time as they washed the blood off of him. Marco was there, having refused to not be there. His eyes were red, but not teary. He was empty, staring, with no expression, at the body of the love of his life.

He'd only been with Ace for a couple years. Not nearly enough. He was too young to die at 20. It wasn't fair. The nurses felt like they'd failed him, but he insisted that they had done their best and it was all they could have done. Keep him relaxed through the whole thing.

But they'd always have the guilt of diagnosing it wrong. He could have had more time to be awake and with his loved ones.

Marco's bedroom was stripped of everything Ace had touched. He wouldn't have his scent anywhere. The blankets and sheets were going to be burned. The disease had killed him in less than three days. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right. But they could not afford for it to spread through the ship. The hallway was sprayed down with disinfectant, including what was left of Marco's furniture. Luckly, he still had some clothes from him. Only shorts, but they smelled of him. He couldn't go in his room, but he didn't want to. It was his only again. He wasn't going to share it, have the comfort of another body in it to curl around and snuggle.

He'd never see Ace's bright eyes, his flushed cheeks, his freckles. They weren't going to burn him, they would bury him somewhere nice, where they could visit him. Once again, the second division commanders' seat was empty, and probably would be for a long time.

The crew was mourning. Most were locked in their bedrooms, including Pops. it was a time to grieve for everyone, so the ship wasn't moving anymore. It was still, just like Ace's body. While others isolated themselves, Thatch cooked. It had been fifteen hours, and he was still cooking. So much food would go to waste, but no one had the heart to stop him from a coping method.

It was midnight when Marco entered the kitchen. Thatch looked exhausted, and he needed to sleep. Cooking when half asleep could be dangerous. "Thatch," he said softly, taking his hand. "You need to sleep. What would happen if you left the stove on?"

Thatch had tears down his face. He didn't say a word, and just turned the stove off and left everything there. For the first time in his cooking career, he did not put the food away, did not clean up. Marco walked him to his room before turning back to put the food away and clean it up so he could cook in the morning without having to clean everything.

He was heading to the bathhouse, unable to go to sleep again, when he heard screaming. He assumed it was someone having a nightmare or an episode. Some grieved by being angry. There were more than a couple people being assholes, but no one had the heart to scold them for it. But the screaming persisted, so he walked down the hall to tell whoever it was to _shush._

But it wasn't coming from any of the bedrooms, so he followed it downstairs. He didn't know who would be screaming down there. It was where the brig was, the shipwrights' area, and storage for big things. And also the morgue. Was someone freaking out in front of Ace's b-body? Then he heard a string of profanities and started to sprint.

He threw open the door to see Ace's body bag on the ground and thrashing around. He hurried to it at light speed and unzipped it to find Ace looking absolutely panicked. And alive. He was breathing, albeit quickly.

"Marco, what the fuck happened?" he asked, eyes wide in fear. Marco looked at him in shock before erupting into sobs and hugging him tightly. Ace didn't fight it, and had stopped swearing. Marco cried into his neck, rocking him back and forth. "Wh-What happened to me?" he asked in a quiet voice, though he had to know by where he was and Marco's reaction.

"You died, Ace," Marco said simply and quietly. Ace froze.

"... But, I'm alive," he said quietly. "How did I die?" he asked, and Marco looked a bit puzzled. He asked what Ace remembered last. "I was in our bed, with a cold." The older man both looked puzzled and happy.

Marco kissed his forehead, "I was a lot worse after that. I won't go into detail, but the sickness was too much for your body to handle. You died in your sleep days ago. I don't know what's happened. Never eat a bat again, okay?" Ace asked what that had to do with anything. "Bats carry tons of diseases, and you ate one without knowing."

Ace grew irate. "I died because I ate a bat?" Marco nodded. "That's so humiliating." The older man chuckled, and Ace's stomach roared. "I'm hungry," he said unncessarily.

Marco rose with him, looking at his perfectly healthy face, his blood-free and dry face. The sight of his last day would never leave him, he knew that. He wouldn't ever forget Ace's bloody body that he had helped clean up. Marco didn't kiss him, not knowing if he was still sick. Was he contagious in the first place? He put his hand on Ace's cheek, which was nice and warm, not burning.

"Let's go get you some food. Thatch cooked up a storm. Then we can go see Pops," Marco said. Ace was only in his underwear, but he didn't really care. It wasn't much different than what he usually wore. They were holding hands tightly. Marco looking at him every few seconds. Ace looked troubled and lost in his own thoughts.

"I'm sorry. I caused everyone so much pain," he said, sounding ashamed. Marco put his arm around his shorter boyfriend's shoulders. He replied that he hadn't known that it was bad to eat bats. He swore to never do it again. And he swore not to eat any rats, not that Ace had ever and ever would eat a rat.

They entered the galley without running into anyone, and Marco went to the fridge and got out everything he'd put away. Ace ate it like a starving animal, but maybe he was. He was sick and then died for a few days. They were both so confused, Ace troubled and Marco overjoyed. He intertwined their fingers at the table. Marco didn't care right now if Ace got germs on him. They'd just wipe the table down.

He'd have to get tested by the nurses to see if he was still infected. "Don't touch anything, okay?" Marco asked once all of the dishes have been rinsed with bleach. Ace nodded, putting his hands in his pocket.

"Was it contagious? Did anyone else get sick?" he asked quietly. Marco shook his head.

He said that no one else got sick, and then that he had passed so fast they hadn't learned a thing about the disease or diseases. They walked through the commanders' hall and Marco knocked on Pop's door. He kept Ace six feet away from the door, and Pops opened it, looking exhausted emotionally, and like he hadn't slept. Ace felt terrible for causing his family pain.

Whitebeard's eyes widened in shock, and looked Ace up and down, before reaching to hug him, Marco stepped in front of him, and their father looked irate before Marco told him, "He might still be a carrier. You can't get sick." Pops looked like he understood, even though he was itching to hug Ace and make sure he was real, and not a dream that would become a nightmare after waking up.

"H-How?" he asked quietly, voice sad. Both Ace and Marco shrugged, having no answer. "Never eat a bat again, Ace." Ace chuckled and promised he would never eat a bat ever again. "How do you feel?"

Ace said, "Fine. I don't remember any of the sickness. I just had a cold and then I woke up in the body bag and started freaking out." Pops asked if he still had his devil fruit, and Ace lit his hand on fire, flames licking on his fingers.

He smiled, and said that they should go get Ace tested now. Marco nodded, thinking that was a good idea, and the three walked to the infirmary, Pops staying a good distance away. Marco was holding Ace's hand tightly, not wanting to lose him again. He could never lose Ace again.

When they entered the infirmary, they turned the light on. Pops walked to the nurses quarters and rang the bell. The door opened to show a tired Whiskey with bed head. "Is everything okay?" she asked, before she looked to the side and saw Ace standing there, alive and breathing. She collapsed to her knees, hitting the floor hard. Pops went forward and helped pick her up and put her back on his feet.

"H-How?" she asked in bafflement. Ace's heart had stopped, his brain had stopped functioning. There was no way he should be alive, but she was so happy, and walked forward to hug Ace.

"Wait! What about me spreading the illness," Ace said, pushing Whiskey away, who had tears in her eyes. She shook her head.

"The tests tested negative. It was never contagious," she said. Marco kissed him immediately, wrapping his arms around Ace. Ace blushed about kissing right in front of the others, but didn't pull away. "I'm sorry we didn't let you be with loved ones before passing," the head nurse said in a guilty voice.

Marco assured her that Ace didn't remember the whole thing. Whiskey sighed in relief, since it had been messy and painful for him. And terrifying, even though he had lost any real touch of reality near the end. "So we don't need to wipe down everything he's touched?" Whitebeard asked, and she shook her head.

The old man then hugged Ace, his huge arms wrapping around Ace tightly. It didn't hurt since he was made of fire and the captain wasn't using haki. They were quiet for a while before Ace started to doze off. Marco couldn't help but shake him awake. Ace was confused, but Marco apologized.

"I'm sorry. You died in your sleep, it's scary to have you go back," Marco said. Ace put his hand on his cheek.

"Who knows? Maybe I'm immortal," he replied lightly. "Even if I'm immortal, I still gotta sleep." Marco smiled and nodded. "Let's go to bed. I can't sleep by myself again," the older said, and the three men walked back to their bedrooms. Whitebeard wished them goodnight, giving Ace a pat on the head for good measure.

The mattress had nothing on it. "They threw everything out afterwards, in case it was contagious. I'm so glad it's not," Marco said, and nuzzled the back of Ace's neck. Ace chuckled. And they both laid down. Ace kept them both warm with his powers so they didn't need any blankets, though they were much nicer to sleep with instead of just straight on a mattress.

When they woke up, Ace showered and changed into new underwear and shorts. He looked at himself in the mirror, wondering what it had been like. The sickness. Marco made it seem really bad, but didn't tell him specifics. Ace didn't really want to know, but he did have a morbid curiosity.

Marco came up behind him, and said they should go to breakfast. "I'm sure everyone would want to know you're alive as soon as possible," he said, resting his jaw on Ace's head. He nodded, and looked in the mirror again to see Marco smiling at him with such a happy look, relieved. But there was also a hunt of pain in his gaze.

What had happened to Ace when he died? What did he look like? Was there a lot of blood? He hoped not, and tried not to imagine his face coated in blood, wherever the blood had come from. He decided he did not want to know. On their way out, he put the hat on. It's weight was comforting and familiar. Luffy gave it to him.

" _I want to see Luffy!"_ his own voice lanced through his mind. Maybe when he was dying he wanted to see Lu. It made sense, since Luffy's presence was wonderful and distracting at the same time. Having to keep him out of trouble. He was an angel, though a stupid one. He shook his head, and took Marco's hand as they walked out of the infirmary. When they passed a certain spot in the hallway, suddenly a blurred image of the hallway appeared, blurred and tilted. He stopped, stopping Marco as well.

Ace looked up with hurt eyes. "I'm going to remember what happened. Please tell me before I do," he said, almost desperately. Marco looked pained, not wanting to tell him, but his younger lover's expression was pleading.

"You threw up a couple times. Then came seizures. Then… blood came. From everywhere, Ace. You were bleeding from everywhere," Marco said, voice haunted, and Ace felt bad for asking him to relive it.

"...Was I in pain?" Ace asked, fists balled. He didn't want to remember. He didn't, didn't want to relive his death. It was scary enough that it happened in the first place, he didn't want to witness it from a first person perspective.

"Not in the very end. You died in your sleep. Even though you looked so bad, you had a small smile on. Like you were having a nice dream in death," Marco explained. Ace moved forward and hugged the crying man, feeling bad for having him talk about it.

Ace apologized, both or dying and bringing it up again when it was clearly painful, of course it was. Marco loved him, and apparently Ace's face was bleeding out to death. Ace walked to him and gave him a warm hug, raising his body temperature so Marco felt he was next to a comfortable fireplace, or in thick blankets on a cold night.

They separated after Marco got his emotions back under control. They walked to the galley, holding hands tightly. Ace was nervous. He didn't want anyone to be mad at him. He was sure they'd be happy, but he'd died in such a pathetic way that could have been completely avoided. When they entered the room, Ace found just how his death had affected everyone.

Almost everyone was picking at their food, and Ace stood there, watching what had happened because of him. All it took was someone from Ace's division to shout his name. Everyone looked at him with disdain, like saying Ace's name so soon was a sin.

But the pirate pointed in Ace's direction. Everyone turned, and Ace gave a weak wave. Thatch jumped over the table, knocking over everyone's uneaten food and hugged Ace tightly. He didn't know if Ace was still a carrier with whatever disease(s) he'd gotten from the bat. Ace hugged him back, and a dogpile happened, knocking Ace to the floor.

So many people were all snot and tears. Ace assured them that he wasn't a dream. He was alive and kicking just fine. Eventually people got a hold of themselves and asked the obvious question: "How are you alive?!"

Ace answered honestly. "I don't know. I woke up in the b-body bag. Marco found me. I don't remember dying," he said, he was ushered to his table, where Vista was the only one to ask if it was safe for him to be near them.

Marco nodded and answered for him as Ace dug into the meal. "Apparently he wasn't contagious in the first place." Thatch and Haruta fumed, and Ace could almost see steam coming out of their ears. "Whiskey already feels bad about it, don't make her feel worse." They lost their anger a bit, but still looked grouchy.

Ace decided to lighten the mood. "I thought of a good prank," he said, and it garnered the fourth and twelfth division commanders' attention immediately. "But I can't tell you now or it'd ruin it."

Thatch narrowed his eyes. "Are you just trying to make us feel better?" he asked suspiciously. Ace shook his head and assured them that he had a great idea. They bought it, since it was true, and everyone ate happily, though they kept looking at Ace, as if he was an apparition and not real.

After breakfast, Ace felt like the rope used in a tug-of-war, asked to spend time with everyone. It grew slightly annoying, but he wasn't angry. They thought he was dead (he was) and didn't want to waste a single moment with him. He wasn't going to be eating any more bats anytime soon. He said that, and it gained both stern looks and laughs. He finally was settled with telling his close friends about his prank. They decided to pull it off next week, after the excitement died down. After he had fun time with his fellow pranksters, Pops asked him to go get a check up with the nurses. He felt fine, but went with him anyway.

Out of everyone, he was the one who least knew about his disease. Tami hadn't seen him last night and hugged him when she saw him. She started crying, and Ace patted her back. It was weird for the usually stoic and strict nurses crying about him.

"Thanks for taking care of me. I won't eat anymore bats, I promise," he swore, trying to lighten the mood. But then he struck a somber tone. "I don't remember the last moments, but I heard it was bad. I'm sorry for putting you through that," he said solemnly.

Whiskey hit his head. "It's our job, of course we took care of you. I was even nice to you. Then again, you were rapidly deteriorating. But of course we'd be there for you," she finished, Tami nodding vehemently. Ace smiled.

Pops spoke, and he almost forgot the man was there. "Will you give Ace a check up?" he asked. The nurses nodded and Ace sat on the bed, having a feeling he died on this one. He was glad no more flashbacks came, no matter how brief they were.

The check up went relatively normal. Ace was in perfect shape for someone who'd previously been dead for two days. They took a sample of his blood, weakening him with sea stone so they could draw blood.

Whiskey had gone inside the room that branched off that Ace hadn't ever been allowed in since it had medications, blood samples, and other things that couldn't be handled by anyone but a professional. When she came out, she looked puzzled.

"So, might be bad news, I don't know," she said, already making Ace afraid of the results. "The disease still seems to be in your blood. It's still not contagious, but it hasn't left. Some illnesses stay with us but become dormant after treatment. They stick around but the body has fought it off. so it has antibodies. But of course, your situation is far from usual."

Ace waited for an answer or prediction, but the nurse didn't give any. "So I'm still sick but it's not doing anything?" Ace wondered, grasping at straws. Whiskey nodded. "Will it stay that way?"

"I don't know. Since we don't know what the disease is or its treatment, I don't know what's going to happen. But it isn't doing your body any harm at the moment," she said, too simply for Ace's taste. "At the moment" meant anything could change. Could he start showing the symptoms again? Would he die again?

Would he come back the next time, too? His thoughts continued to be morbid, but Pops put a hand on his shoulder. Encouraging him to _not_ have a panic attack. There was a wet feeling on his upper lip, and he put his fingers to it, but there was nothing there. He scratched the area, and then stood up. "So, do I need to stay in here?"

"I'd like you to come in a couple times a day. Every three hours, I want you to come get a check up, okay?" the head nurse asked. Ace nodded, saying he would. He left with one more hug. Man, he must have been in really bad shape for the _nurses_ to be emotional. He felt guilt. And would the disease or diseases just stay inside him without doing shit? He was still not thinking much about the fact he had been dead and was now alive.

He was surprised that there wasn't more fuss or confusion about that. Maybe they were all high off of relief, and those questions would come at a later time. The only good thing from that check up was that Ace could not spread his bat illness, which was now what he would be calling it.

During lunch, he had a sleep attack and everyone freaked out, shaking him awake as Marco tried to get people to stop pulling on him, that he was just asleep. "But Marco, Marco!" Thatch protested with a _look._ Marco knew, yes he had gone to sleep and then passed away, but he was going to have to sleep. They couldn't keep him awake indefinitely.

"I know, but you can't smother him. He'll feel bad, or uncomfortable if everyone makes a fit over it. Just treat him how you normally would. Don't look at me like that, this is hard for me too!" Ace woke up, blinking twice, before he went back to shoveling food into his face.

Ace lounged around on deck for a while, enjoying the sunshine and breeze. He laid on his back on the figurehead, just looking at the clouds passing above. He had a new appreciation for everything. He got a second chance and he would use it wisely. He would still live his life, but would be more mindful about his health.

When he napped for a while, Stefan came over, the crew's dog. He was old, and mostly slept now. He walked up to Ace and laid his upper body across Ace's. He pet the huge dog softly. Stefan fell asleep, and was only thanks to Ace's fruit that he wasn't in crushing pain from the huge dog's weight.

Thatch came over and stood over Ace. "Oi, I was looking at the sky, not your ugly mug," Ace said, though he and Thatch both knew he was just joking. Thatch huffed and sat down next to Ace. He took Ace's hand and squeezed it. "Don't worry, Thatch. I feel fine," he assured.

"But you still have the bat sickness, right?" he asked quietly. Solemn Thatch was a rarity, and Ace didn't really like it. But he nodded. "What if it acts up again?" the chef wondered in such a small voice it made Ace's heart clench. He looked back up at the sky.

"Well, then we'll just hope I'll come back again. Maybe I'm immortal now, you never know. Nothing about this situation makes sense, but we just gotta roll with it, right?" Thatch was still pouting but nodded. He laid down too, next to Ace. "Your outfit will get dirty, you know."

Thatch didn't reply for a moment, and Ace looked to the side to see the chef was wearing such a hopeless expression. "Don't die, Ace," Thatch suddenly said. The words brought back the memory of Ace making that reckless promise once already, and he'd broken it too.

He sighed and looked back at the sky. "I've made that reckless promise once already. I won't make it again," he said sternly, and Thatch looked at him in surprise. Ace was looking at the sky again, thoughts distant, but he knew Thatch wanted an explanation to the reply. "When I was a kid, one of my brothers died. Luffy begged me not to die next. I boldly said, 'Don't worry. I will never die'." He shared eye contact with Thatch. "I've broken that promise once already, I won't make it again."

The chef ruffled his hair. "When did you grow up?"

Ace looked horrified. "I can't be told I grew up by _you_ of all people," he said. Thatch pouted at him and he stormed away. Things felt normal. It was nice, he was safe and not sick. At least, not now. But he didn't want to worry about what might happen next. He would just enjoy now. He did hope he wouldn't remember his sickness.

He dozed asleep to the soft rocking from the waves and the breeze blowing his hair across his face and neck. When he woke up, it was completely dark. He blinked a couple of times, and looked around. He couldn't see anywhere around him, or hear anything, not even his breathing. He looked below him, but it was only darkness. He tried calling out, but no sound. He tried moving but he couldn't. It was suffocating, the darkness.

"Ace! Ace, wake up!" Haruta's voice shouted and Ace's eyes snapped open and he was back to being outside on the ship. The small commander was looking at him in worry. Ace closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just a bad dream. Sorry to make you worry," he said quietly. The commander looked at Ace uneasily. "Really, I'm fine. I don't feel sick." He didn't like how worried everyone was about him. He understood why, of course, but he didn't like it. He didn't like being coddled (unless it was by Marco) and having others worry about him.

He leaned forwards and put his head between his legs, arms hanging over his bent knees. He looked down, and saw red spots on the white, felt warmth on his face. He ran his hands along his face, but there was nothing there. The red dots were gone, too. Was he hallucinating? He didn't need that, on top of everything. He kept thinking his nose was bleeding and it was as annoying as it was unsettling.

Maybe it was him doing it mentally. After all, he'd been a bloody mess. Some of that blood no doubt came from his nose. His nose and mouth. He went white at the thought of blood coming from his eyes. He shook his head and slapped his cheeks. People were watching him, but he wasn't focused on them, he was trying to calm the rising wave of panic.

Marco walked over and sat next to him, pulling Ace down to lean against his shoulder. "Don't think too much," he said simply. Ace sighed. It was easier said than done. Marco had been in near-death situations, but he healed every time. Ace had not healed. Died, and just popped back to normal.

"I keep feeling like there's blood dripping down my face, but there's not. I'm worried I'm hallucinating," Ace confessed. Marco didn't reply for a moment.

"Could be PTSD-like symptoms. I mean, you died and then woke up again, Ace. That had to be traumatizing. I'm not gonna say 'get over it' or to move on. It's not gonna be easy. We know that, you know that. Just, don't look down on yourself for however things play out," Marco said, putting his hand on Ace's head.

Ace felt the phantom blood on his face again, and furiously wiped it with both hands. He took a deep breath and let out a cough. He didn't miss it when the whole deck turned silent. He blinked and turned around. "I had an itch in my throat," he said, and chatter resumed. They were gonna worry about him so much now. He had to be strong, not be worried over.

"They will worry whether it's reasonable or not, Ace," Marco said, reading the logia's mind. Ace sighed. "Don't be scared."

Ace shot him a look. "I'm not scared," he protested. Marco chuckled. Then he said, "Well, I'm scared. But, we're all in this together, right?" Ace nodded and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "Now, I hope the prank you are planning with Thatch and Haruta doesn't do any damage to the ship." Ace laughed and told him not to worry about it.

He still worried.

-x-

A week passed of Ace being fine, and people were starting to think it was all behind them. Ace was happy to say he felt completely normal, except for some mild bad dreams. Not enough that it would have him waking up at night, but it would have him in a sour mood in the mornings.

He got check ups daily, and went willingly, wanting to make sure his body was functioning properly, which it was. Nothing was amiss, besides the disease still being present in his blood. But they couldn't exactly take it out, so Ace had to just hope nothing came of it. There wasn't anything he could do about it, but Whiskey had him taking vitamins, just in case they could help. Marco made him remember, so he took them daily.

It was the eighth day when something went wrong. Ace woke up before Marco that morning, and got up to use the bathroom. He was feeling heavy, but he'd stayed up late last night for watch duty, so it was understandable. When he walked to their sink and mirror, he froze. He was hallucinating again, his nose was bleeding.

He wiped it only to see it smeared on his hand and across his upper lip. He spit up some blood, but kept silent, not wanting to scare Marco, but when his eyes started to bleed, he screamed for Marco. He was up in an instant. "Ace!" he shouted, and Ace was panicking.

He gargled blood before Marco turned him to his side. "Marco, I don't want to die again! Take me to the nurses!" he shouted, and Marco picked him up while Ace sobbed and bled from the face. Marco wasn't looking down, not wanting to see Ace sick. Maybe it was a bad dream, but then he noticed Ace wasn't making any more noise and he felt the presence fade.

He slowed his running to a walk and stood there with Ace's body. Tears came from his eyes, but he had hope. Ace would come back to life. He knew it. Ace would not stay dead, he couldn't. It would be cruel to save him only to have him die a week later. He took a deep breath and turned around to bring Ace to their room.

He couldn't allow the crew to freak out. Not again. It would be mean to scare them only for Ace to come back. If Ace wasn't back by the end of the day, Marco would give the horrible news. He felt detached and emotionless, maybe not able to handle it so he cut himself off. He felt heartless, but he couldn't shatter again. He had to stay strong.

Ace would come back. None of this was normal. He'd come back, Marco knew it. If he didn't, then the universe is a sick fuck. Teasing them like Ace could live and only to steal him back again. He shook his head and walked into their room, laying Ace on the bed. He went to the bathroom and got a wet towel to wash the blood off his face gently.

He was so still and quiet. If his chest was moving, he would think the young man was just sleeping. He kissed Ace's forehead, and he was still warm. He put the covers over him, tucking his body in gently, adjusting the pillow for him. He put a glass of water on the bed next to him and a bucket on the floor in case he woke up nauseous. And he would wake up. He _had to._

_To be continued~_


	2. Part 2

**Responses to reviews at the bottom this time. Here's the second part, I hope everyone likes how it ends. And I finally made it to 60 stories! I'm so happy, I hope I can get to 100 some day. Enjoy~**

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Everything was dark and quiet. Almost comforting but suffocating at the same time. He heard whispers, but couldn't make out who it was or what they were saying. Or where they were. Where was he? He heard whoever it was crying, and wondered why. What was the problem? Was he not in the darkness either?

He started to hear more, the rocking creaking noise, but it was still dark and compacted. He couldn't smell or touch anything. He started to hear a pounding noise, though. Suddenly he was cold, like he'd been under a warm blanket and now it was pulled off to show he was on a winter island.

His head started pounding as he finally took in gasping breaths, heart beating rapidly in an uncomfortable way. The blackness was gone, just like that, and he found he was in his bed, tucked under the covers. Was it all a dream? Was he sleeping? Maybe he had a sleep attack and passed out.

The fire logia sat up and got off of the bed to go to the bathroom. He felt a little off, but nothing too serious. The mirror showed that his eyes were a little pink, but maybe it was something normal. Then he looked down, and saw he had a smear of red on his finger, and suddenly saw his face covered in blood and heard himself screaming for Marco.

Oh. He died again. Tears fell down his cheeks, slightly pink but mostly clear. It cleared out the red of his eyes, thankfully. He felt fine, like how he did the first time. This one took much less time than before. He didn't go through the whole process a second time, than goodnesss. Ace sighed, and wiped the tears. He looked down before going to put his shoes on and go find Marco and apologize for dying in his presence. It must have been very hard.

He walked to the galley and peeked his head in, but Marco wasn't there. So he headed to the office, and found his love there. Ace knocked on the doorway softly. Marco swiveled his chair and saw Ace there. He got up and rushed to him, hugging him tightly. Ace wrapped his arms around him as well. "I'm sorry," Ace said sincerely.

Marco sighed into his neck in relief. "It's not your fault," he said softly, kissing Ace's forehead.

"Still, you have to go through horrible things. Seeing me like that's a nightmare. I'm so sorry you had to see it," Ace replied. Marco kissed his cheek next, dotting light kisses across his freckles. "Will this become a regular thing?" he asked in worry.

Marco said he didn't know, but if it was, then they'd go through it together. Always together. Ace nodded, though it didn't make him feel much better. He didn't want to bleed like that often, ever again. It was scary and disturbing. "How did everyone else react?" he questioned.

His lover replied that he didn't tell anyone. Ace was surprised, since Marco rarely kept secrets from Pops. He mostly told the commanders things honestly, but _always_ Pops. When Ace asked if he'd lied to their father and captain, Marco nodded, not looking regretful or guilty at all. "He didn't need to know. No one but the nurses should know. We should get some tests done."

Ace nodded, thinking that was a good idea. Maybe they could figure out why. Would this disease lurk in his body all the time, striking when it felt like? And would he continue coming back, or would he die permanently? He was scared, wondering if that dream about in the darkness was what happened after he died.

Marco led him to the infirmary as the younger was lost in his thoughts. Morbid, scary thoughts about his deaths. Or his temporary deaths. It was too bad this didn't happen to Sabo. Maybe he could have lived on happily. They could have all set out together. But if he had set out with Sabo, then he would not be where he was today. He wouldn't have Pops or Marco.

He was jolted out of his thoughts when they entered the infirmary. Tami greeted them, and Ace went to the bed he knew he'd died on, even if there was a new mattress and clean sheets.

"What's up? Your check up isn't for another couple hours," she said curiously. Ace looked to Marco to explain.

"He died again." Tami's eyes widened and she called Whiskey to them from her office. She saw Tami's worried and freaked out face and hers grew hard and determined to not freak out by whatever the lower ranking nurse thought. "Ace died again. For a couple hours," Marco repeated.

Whiskey let out a sigh. "This makes no medical sense. I don't know what to say or do. I think drawing some more blood would be good. If there's a next time, come as fast as you can. I want to monitor brain activity," the nurse said, sounding tired.

Ace looked down, feeling guilty for worrying his family. Marco asked Whiskey to not tell anyone but Pops. They knew the nurses couldn't keep a thing this huge secret from the captain. They kept things like mental health confidential, but all wounds and injuries were well documented and given to Pops. Usually Marco saw them, too, but not always. And he never spread what he was told.

Whiskey wrote down everything, including Ace's account of things as well as Marco's, and the findings in his blood that they'd still been analyzing. Ace asked if they should tell Pops in person, and Marco said they should and do it in private.

"Ace, I'd consider taking a handkerchief around with you, just in case it happens where you can't wipe it away. It wouldn't stop the bleeding, but it could cover your face. I know from first hand experience how horrible it was to see you like that," Whiskey said kindly.

Ace looked down. "I saw it firsthand, too. I don't want anyone else to see it. I'll carry a rag around with me." Everyone in the room looked at him with sympathy, couldn't imagine seeing themselves in the state he was in. Twice now, though he hadn't seen it the first time. He still didn't remember most of being sick after having the cold-like symptoms. Marco took his hand and the folder with Ace's medical files in it, and they headed to lunch to fetch Pops. Ace wasn't very hungry, even though he'd missed breakfast. He had no appetite.

When they entered the galley, Whitebeard looked up and locked eyes with Marco, who subtly turned his head to the side and left the huge room. The man got up, though it wasn't something he could do subtly, without a word and left the galley. Some commanders stared after him. Wondering why he was leaving while he had so much food left to eat.

Marco led the captain to the meeting room, where Ace sat down in his assigned chair. They were all comfortable to sit in, which was nice since some meetings lasted hours. Too long, honestly, to be sitting at a table. By the end of them, everyone was stiff and sometimes Ace had fallen asleep. They always laughed at him, but there was nothing he could do about it.

He gruesomely wondered if he would die, but it looked like he had a sleep attack, so everyone ignored it. Until blood started to pool around his face, seeping into the cracks of the Moby's wood floors. He shook his head, not wanting to think of such things. He clasped his hands together on the table.

"So, what is wrong, sons?" Pops asked. Marco never beat around the bush so he wasn't going to start now.

"Ace died again. But he woke up," he said simply, honestly. Pops looked so upset before he brought back the face he made when he was serious but not angry. That face was made when he attacked him with an axe from behind back in his assassination days. He sat down, and Marco followed, all three sitting in their usual seats.

Whitebeard asked, "What happened?" Ace bit his lip, not wanting to explain it. He didn't want to think about it anymore, but it was all he _could_ think about. He couldn't think about the prank he was going to play with his more immature buddies. All he thought about was dying.

"Ace was sleeping, and when he woke up, he was in the bathroom and bleeding. He shouted at me to take him to the nurses. He died on our way there. I sort of hid him in our room, didn't want people to be upset again. I had a gut feeling that he would come back again. A couple hours later, he came to my office," Marco said, getting it all out on the table so there were no understandings about the situation.

Pops wasn't happy that Marco kept such a thing hidden, but he had obviously been right. And everyone was already so protective of him, monitoring his every action, that they didn't need it to increase in intensity. Ace had stayed quiet for the whole thing. "I'm so sorry, son," he said sincerely. Ace sniffled once and then said, "Stupid bat."

Marco rubbed circles on his back. Ace wanted them to tell him everything would be fine, that he'd go back to normal. But he knew that was a promise they could not make. They didn't know, nobody knew. And they couldn't let anyone outside of the crew find out. The government would try to have him as an experiment. Maybe try to replicate whatever happened to his body to cause it to come back to life after a prolonged death.

Would things ever make sense? Probably not, they'd probably find no answer. But what they could do was find the pattern. Hopefully be able to predict when this would happen, if it continued to happen. He put his head in his hands with a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry I've caused so much stress for everyone. Tami and Whiskey were being _nice._ I really freaked them out," he lamented.

Pops leaned forward to put his arms on the table. "No one is mad at you. No one thinks you did this on purpose. I can assure you of that, son. This family loves you, it was clear by what the reaction to your passing was, but they won't hold this against you. It isn't as if you wanted this to happen," he reasoned. Ace nodded, though his guilt was not quelled.

"I'm scared it will happen a lot. Like, my body will fail and reset again, and I'll bleed from my face again," Ace said, and shuddered at the memory of his face, eyes and nose bleeding.

Marco sighed. But Pops spoke, "That is a very valid concern, and we'll do everything we can to find a solution to reverse or at least mitigate it. If it continues to happen, we have no way to fix it, but we can find out. Maybe find some pattern." He had said what Ace had just been thinking. It was impressive.

He nodded, and pushed his hair out of his face with a sigh, leaning back in his chair. "I really hope this doesn't make me have to resign from my position." Marco and Whitebeard were baffled, and the latter asked what he was talking about. "I'll be a danger to the crew and my division if we're in a mission or battle and I die. They'd have to protect my body while also fighting. I'd be a nuisance," he explained.

Marco shook his head. "You won't lose your position. Besides you make things work with your narcolepsy, don't you?" he asked. That was true, but Ace didn't have sleep attacks that lasted hours. More like a couple of minutes. "Besides, it would be a great way to throw off your enemies."

Ace knew he was trying to lighten the mood but it didn't work and Ace shot him a look. He sighed again. Pops spoke next, quietly, hesitantly. "Do you remember what happened while you were gone?" He didn't say "dead" even though he had been, twice.

Ace shook his head. "I don't remember it, only waking up. It's dark and silent but then I start to hear things, and I'm awake. It's just like waking up in the morning. It's definitely not like falling asleep," he added in a strong voice. He looked up and saw Pops was wrestling with another question. Ace could guess what it was.

"Can I ask how it felt? When you were passing?" the man asked slowly. It was not often they heard hesitation or uncertainty in his voice. Ace was going to answer truthfully. He didn't like lying to Pops, even though it was a personal question.

"Well, I don't remember most of my sickness the first time. I had a cold, then I woke up in a body bag. I don't remember any of the messy parts. But the last time… my head started to hurt, first. I went to the bathroom and felt a pressure behind my eyes. My nose started bleeding first, then built up my throat. Then my eyes bled last."

Pops visibly flinched and closed his eyes with a pained expression. "You asked," Ace pointed out.

"I know. I just can't imagine - don't want to imagine - how scared you must have been. We're pirates, we risk death every day of our lives. Most of us don't have the displeasure to die more than once, though." Both Marco and Ace nodded in agreement.

Ace immediately slammed his face into the table with no warning, and both men in the room shot up and ran over, only to hear snoring. Marco made sure there was no blood on his face. The two shared a heavy sigh of relief. Pops put his hand on Marco's shoulder. Now that Ace was asleep, Marco could truly let go of his emotions. He didn't cry easily, but he did now, and the captain brought him into a hug.

-x-

"Ahhh!" pirates screeched as they came out of their rooms. The three trouble making commanders were in the broom closet chuckling. Shouts of fear were heard, and then the three heard Marco coming, asking what the hell they were freaking out about. Thatch grew pale and locked the door, which for some reason had a lock on the inside and not outside.

The three silenced until foot steps walked past the door and then stopped. They all held their breaths before there was a lazy knock on the door. "Care to explain the footprints all over the ceiling and walls?" he asked through the door.

"You have the wrong people," Thatch said in a high voice. Haruta scolded him, since there was no woman who would be in that part of the ship. "Ooooh," he said, trying to make a ghost noise.

"I'm am not stupid, Thatch. Just come out and clean up your mess," Marco said in a bored voice. Thatch huffed and opened the door, all three of them coming out of the closet, looking like kicked puppies. Marco didn't play favorites and scolded Ace as well.

The night before, the three had done the prank Ace had told them about. They wasted about three big bottles of baby powder on their prank. It had Ace balancing on his hands on Thatch's hands as he walked his powdered covered feet along the ceiling to create footprints. Ace had to say it was a great idea, and he was proud of it. Then they had put creepy powdered handprints on every door. Ace was bummed they weren't able to enjoy it for long.

Pirates crowded around them angrily, and Ace just laughed. "Sorry, sorry. It was all in good fun," he said, hands up in a peaceful gesture. "We'll clean it up real fast." Marco huffed and then shooed everyone to disperse.

The past five eight days had been back to normal for Ace. He hadn't died again, though he now called it a "reset" because it made him feel better than throwing around "death" and "died". People had stopped worrying about him _too_ much, so that was nice. He went for regular check ups with the nurses, mostly with Marco since he wanted to know everything first. He was stressed after the whole mess started, but it was tapering off. But he and Ace both knew anything could change at a moment's notice.

Ace burned off the powder easily. "There! All better," he said in a chipper voice. Thatch and Haruta pat him on the back, happy they didn't have to wipe down all the halls they spent that night doing. Ace had snuck out of their room while Marco was sleeping to rendezvous with his fellow pranksters.

Marco sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What am I gonna do with you? You're all adults."

Ace crossed his arms. "I refuse to call myself an adult until I want to call myself an adult," he declared. "Besides, you appointed me when I was a teenager, you know. You knew what you were getting yourself into," he grinned. Thatch ruffled his hair from behind.

"And it's a good thing you can be responsible when necessary. So, what I came here to do was to tell you three that a commanders' meeting was scheduled for 3:30. Ace, you'll be doing a briefing on how the navigation is doing with supplies," Marco said. "Thatch will do the same with the kitchen, and Haruta will do the intelligence."

Thatch added, "So, in birdspeak, it will be a boring meeting?"

Marco glared at him but didn't bite, and nodded. So, it was a meeting regarding stock of various supplies and equipment. The navigators were needing new mapping pens, since many were old and becoming unusable. New ones would be a great help.

The three commanders walked to their hall with the offices to get the information ready. It was 2:30. Meetings like this also would show if they'd been keeping up with their own duties, since the documents needed to be ready already. They couldn't rush to get them done if they hadn't.

Ace shared his office space with Thatch since neither of them had their supplies or equipment that stayed there. Marco had his own big office space since he was first mate. Ace had enjoyed a romp with him there once, seeing how good at multitasking Marco was.

He was pretty bad at it.

"I wish we had fun meetings. Parties. Not boring stuff like this," Thatch complained, both of them holding packets of things they needed to address. Thatch's was much smaller than Ace's. It was going to be a long meeting, and he couldn't promise to stay awake for the whole thing. When he was bored, the narcolepsy acted up. Everyone thought it was funny.

Well, besides Marco. He freaked out every time Ace passed out, and he could understand why. But he didn't want him to worry, things were going good now.

When the commanders all met at the meeting room, they each had some sort of packet, even though many were very thin. The ones with the most were Curiel and Haruta. Poor guys. They entered the room and sat in their assigned seats, ordered around the large round table in numbered order. So Ace was between Marco and Jozu.

Pops came in and sat down. "I know this is going to be a boring meeting, but it is necessary. We'll go around the table counter clockwise." Great, Ace was second to last. He couldn't nap it all out.

He wasn't the only one bored, Thatch and Haruta both had their face propped up by a hand. When they finally got to Ace, he was so tired. But he had to do his part as the head of the navigation division. He stood and started to list off what supplies they were in need of. Mapping pens, ink, paper since a few of the navigators who weren't the best made a lot of mistakes in mapping islands properly. And you couldn't erase ink.

He started feeling the phantom liquid above his lip, but he was used to the feeling by now that he didn't pay much attention to it. Namur stopped him. "What?" he asked, irritated he was interrupted. His head was starting to hurt, and he wanted to finish and then just succumb to the sleep attack.

"Your nose is bleeding," he pointed out. Marco looked at him in fear, but Ace gave him a reassuring smile, even if it was shaky.

"I'm fine. Let me continue," he insisted, but Pops stopped him. "I'm okay, let me finish and then I'll go to the infirmary," he said. He took a few deep breaths, trying to hold it off, seeing how much he could resist. "My second in comm-" he started to say and coughed out blood, all over his damn papers.

Shouts of his name were heard around the room, and he hit the table hard. He was coherent enough to take the rag out of his pocket and cover his face. No one else had to see the blood coming from his eyes.

This time, he was unafraid. He had a feeling he'd wake up again, perfectly fine. He just wished it hadn't happened in front of others, it would worry and disturb them. "I'm o-okay," he insisted, turning on his side to vomit out blood. He felt Marco gripping his hand. No one took the rag off, and he lost all sight and sound around him. The last thing he felt was Marco bringing him into his arms.

Ace was dead. Everyone stared in shock before they started screaming. Marco kept the rag on Ace's face, rocking him. Pops stood, and though he had tears in his eyes, he knew about it already from Marco and Ace telling him not only a few days ago. Eight days again, like the last time. Did it happen every eight days? That piece of information needed to be known.

Pops calmed everyone while Marco brought Ace to the infirmary. Whiskey wanted to see him wake up, do some tests. He left chaos in the meeting room as Pops worked to explain the situation to his panicking sons.

"Oh, Ace. I'm so sorry," Marco said, holding him close to his chest. He walked up the stairs with Ace in his arms, and when people asked if he had another sleep attack, Marco angled himself to block the sight of blood all over his neck and face.

"Yeah, in the middle of the meeting, too," he said in a surprisingly strong voice. He was impressed, and not too much later reached the infirmary. "Whiskey," he called, and laid Ace on the bed.

The head nurse came out and immediately got to work with putting monitors on Ace and wires around his head. It was not a nice sight, and Marco got to work cleaning his face. "It happened in the commanders' meeting," Marco said in a flat voice, holding Ace's limp hand tightly. "Now everyone will know and no one will treat him the same."

Whiskey put her hand on his shoulder. "I just want him to be _happy._ I want us to fix what's wrong with him. I want things to go back to how they were." Marco realized he was whining, but it was true. He wished things were how they had been. For Ace especially. It was selfish for him to want things to be back to make _him_ feel better.

It was worse for Ace in some ways. Now that they knew it would be a recurring thing, he'd worry about it happening anywhere. Whiskey said nothing, but gave him physical comfort, sitting next to him and taking his hand. "Things aren't going to go back to normal. Ace will always have died. That experience will be with him and all of us the rest of our lives. All we can do is help him and move forward."

Marco nodded and leaned against Whiskey's shoulder, a show of vulnerability that had her surprised. But they both had something in common. They'd both watched Ace die. They'd both seen the light leave him, seen the blood and tears.

It was an hour later when the machines started to work. The heart monitor slowly picked up. One beat a whole minute, then 45 seconds, then half a minute, until it was beating back to normal. What was interested were the brain scans that showed up on the monitor. Parts of Ace's brain were dark while others lit up. Eventually all of them were working, though not all at the same time.

Ace slowly opened his eyes, and looked around, clearly confused. "Where?" he asked, before he said, "Infirmary?" Marco nodded, and put his hand on Ace's cheek. Ace thought he'd just fallen asleep, but then remembered the last moments before his third death. He brought his hands to his face. Everyone knew now.

"I wanna see everyone, let them know I'm okay," he said. When he tried to get up, Whiskey pushed him back down. Ace frowned at her in a questioning way.

"I want you to stay in bed for now. Get your body back to functioning normally. The commanders can come here, they all fit with extra space," the nurse said sternly. Ace didn't question it, and laid back down. Marco offered to go get everyone, kissing Ace's forehead before leaving. "I'm sorry this has happened, Ace. I assume it's very scary."

Ace nodded and thanked her for that. "But we're seeing a pattern now. eight days apart. Maybe that will be constant, and I'll be prepared in eight days. Maybe I can be somewhere comfortable when it happens," he said, lost in thought. It would be so much better if he was laying in bed when it happened. Maybe he could be given a sedative so he wasn't awake when it happened. He wouldn't feel the blood, see it smeared on his fingers.

"I think that's a good idea. In eight days, we'll set you up in your room. It'll be much more peaceful and quiet than here." Ace nodded in agreement. Well, at least now that had some constants. eight days was a constant, the blood was a constant, the feeling of his head hurting before was constant, and the amount of time he stayed dead was constant as well. Constants were making Ace feel better about the situation.

He still regret ever eating a stupid bat. Very much, but he couldn't undo that. It was lucky that Whiskey asked about what he ate so they knew it was from bats. Ace hated them now. Why did they carry so many diseases? It was crazy! But he was just so glad his illness was not contagious. Imagining everyone dying in the way he had the first time was awful. They'd have dead bodies everywhere. Pops was old, whether anyone liked to acknowledge it or not, and the sickness could have killed him in much less time than it had taken Ace to.

Nobody knew if they would come back to life as well, or if it was just that way for Ace. And nobody was going to test it out. Soon, a huge group came in, the commanders and captain. Thatch, Izo, Haruta and Vista ran to his side, and Thatch and Haruta started blubbering into the sheets.

"Thought you we-were dead!" Haruta sobbed, with Thatch nodded his own tearful face.

"I'm sorry we kept it a secret. We didn't want to worry you. I don't want anyone being overprotective because of this, y'know?" Thatch and Haruta glared at him. "Is it too much to ask to try and make things as normal as they can be? It's not just scary for you guys."

His fellow pranksters lost their anger. "So, will this happen more?" Vista asked, twirling his mustache. Ace shrugged and Marco answered better.

He crossed his arms and said, "He died eight days after the initial incident, and then today was eight days later. Hopefully that is constant. Not ideal, but constant. It's unpredictable already, so we just want it to be as certain as possible you know? Not be taken by surprise."

The others nodded, and Pops asked how Ace felt. "I feel good." Thatch asked the question they were probably all wondering. He asked what it was like to die. After all, it had happened to him three times already.

Ace looked down, trying to word this right. "It's like falling asleep only faster. You're there one moment and then you're not. It's like I close my eyes and a blink later I'm alive. It takes a bit to wake up fully. Sounds come, sound of my heartbeat, then other sounds around me. Sight comes last. It's not a bad feeling to die, it's bad _how_ I die. I hate it," he said, balling his fists in the sheets. "I'm sorry I messed up the meeting. And I got blood all over my papers," Ace grumbled irritatedly.

Namur scolded him and said, "You should have gone to the infirmary and not be stubborn about finishing your report." Ace frowned but Marco was there, of course, to defend him.

"It's not like getting there any quicker is going to stop it. He was trying to do as much as he could before he would be out of action," he replied, a bit heatedly. Ace smiled and yawned, before laying back against the pillows. He warned them that a sleep attack was coming, and then promptly fell asleep, snoring lightly.

Haruta pushed his hair out of his eyes, wearing a sad look. "I feel bad for him." The others nodded in agreement. They could see the barely there traces of blood in the crevices of his eyes. "He's handling it well."

Izo said, "I was thinking that, too. If it were me, I'd be much more bothered. I'd be afraid of never waking up. But that stubborn brat still continued his presentation even as his face bled. You can say what you want about his immaturity, but he's a good commander."

The words they all thought but didn't say was, "Ace is irreplaceable." For many ways, not just that he was perfect for the second division. Ace was the youngest, and possibly brightest, brother. He was also irreplaceable for Marco. The Whitebeards had never seen him adore someone as much as he did the fire-user.

The whole situation was unfortunate and messed up. "Why don't we finish what's left of the meeting in here?" Pops suggested. It was only Ace's and Marco's reports that had been unfinished. Ace's was a problem, as most of his documents had blood on them. Poor kid would have to rewrite most of them.

Well, his brothers would help him out. After all, it wasn't as if he was slacking and that's why they needed to be rewritten. So they carried on the meeting, which was just Marco and him reading aloud what was legible of Ace's report. It didn't take long, and by the end, Ace was back awake, watching them sleepily.

He felt perfectly fine, if not emotionally exhausted. He kept the facade up, that he was fine and unafraid. It was only the nurses and Marco who knew how he really felt about dying. Marco since he had been with Ace when he was begging to not die again. Whiskey and Tami had seen his last moments, the first time around, how he was scared and missing his family.

He was afraid. Very much, and didn't want his happy life to change, to have this happen consistently. It made no sense, and while he was glad he wasn't permanently dead, why did he have to have it so many times? Why did his body need to die and then reset to continue to live? The disease, or diseases, were still in his body, but not seeming to cause any trouble.

So what was causing this? And how could they stop it? Could they even, or was there nothing to do about it besides accepting it as the new norm? Ace sighed, balling his hands in the bed sheets. It was scary and maddening. But he wouldn't break in front of others. He hated making them worry about him. He knew they wouldn't stop, but that didn't mean he liked it.

The commanders were done with the meeting, and wished Ace to feel better while Thatch and Haruta stayed there with the couple. Marco was sitting in a chair next to the bed Ace was laying on, holding his hand. It was quiet except for Thatch promising they'd have a party sometime that week.

"That's right, I never got my feast!" Ace said, remembering something in the back of his mind about being told he'd have a feast. The three looked confused at him. Marco asked how he remembered that. "I sometimes have little snippets of memory. Someone's voice or something. Not big flashbacks, but tiny things, kind of like dejavu."

The other three looked grateful that he still didn't remember the initial sickness. They'd been told how his last moments were and they weren't pretty. They hoped he'd never go through that again. "I wish we could purge that stupid disease out of you," Thatch complained with a pout.

Ace sighed. "Well, there's not a way to. If it can't be burned away, then I don't think it's gonna go away if _we_ want it to. God, it all started because I ate something I shouldn't have. Biggest mistake of my life." He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Thatch asked if he was sure he was okay. "I have eight days left, right?"

Marco frowned, but it was the best bet. The pattern matched twice. Eight days before the next time. And now that they could predict it, they could make Ace comfortable next time it happened. Laying in bed, or preferably having been given something to put him to sleep so he didn't need to be awake for it.

Ace put on a new shirt, since his had been ruined from the blood, and then went to use the bathroom. Marco stood in the infirmary, head down and eyes shadowed. This wasn't fair. What did Ace ever do to have this happen to him? Surely not everyone dies and comes back to life like this? And while he was immensely grateful that Ace had a second chance, wasn't it a bit much to have it repeat, over and over?

How long would this last? Would he die every eight days for the rest of his life? He was only twenty, he had so much longer to live. Well, in the long run. His mini deaths didn't count as real deaths. Though, if this was the only way for it to continue, then Marco would accept it, and everyone else would need to as well.

Marco would try and come up with a cure, but he didn't know where to even start. How to rid his body of a disease that was in his bloodstream and cells? Thatch put a hand on his shoulder, startling Marco out of his thoughts. "He'll get through it. We all will, and if it continues to happen, we'll watch out for him and make it as easy as we can," the chef said seriously. Marco nodded and thanked him. "We're family, and we'll do anything to help him."

-x-

Ace sat at the table in the galley, staring at his tea. It was the eighth day, and for the past week, everyone had been staring at him. Not in a mean way, but more like worry, like he'd drop dead at any moment. He didn't know what time it would come, and it was before breakfast. Thatch wasn't even up yet. Ace had made the tea. Marco was in the shower.

Why did this have to happen? He shook his head, wanting to not think that way. He'd been doing that enough for the past eight days. He downed the drink, the boiling water not hurting him, and then put the mug in the sink. He sighed, and made his way back to his and Marco's bedroom. He got there when Thatch was just leaving his room. Ace said nothing and didn't make eye contact when he opened the bedroom door and gently closed it behind him. Whiskey would be giving him a sedative later. They didn't know when it would happen, since the last two times hadn't been constant. Hell, it might not even happen today. It could happen another day, or maybe not at all.

But he wasn't optimistic enough to think it was over. Marco had just gotten out of the shower with a towel around his waist. Ace was so depressed he didn't even want the towel to accidentally slip off. He laid down on the bed, legs still over the side. Marco put pants on and then sat next to Ace.

"You'll be comfortable this time," he said simply. Even Marco didn't feel any hope. Ace turned on his side and buried his face in the pillow, only to then shove it away, he didn't want to ruin the pillow with any blood. Marco put his hand on Ace's cheek and turned his face. "And you'll be asleep. It'll be just like falling asleep, and I'll clean you up afterwards, so it really will be like you fell asleep. Right?"

Ace nodded. Marco said he was going to go get Whiskey now. It hadn't happened at night, around midday, so hopefully that was a constant. Ace got up once he left and got a towel to place under his head. He was glad he wouldn't have to feel or see it. He settled down, and pulled the blankets up over him, just to his pecs so no blood would stain them. He didn't want to make a mess.

Not long after, Whiskey and Marco came in, closing the door behind them. "You'll fall asleep very quickly, and if Marco isn't in the room for some reason, I want you to come to the infirmary, okay?" the nurse asked, gaining a nod from Ace.

Whiskey injected him with the anesthesia, a strong dose for however long it was until it started. Ace called it a reset, not a death. Or mini-deaths, as some were calling them. He didn't like the word. It meant nothing to him anymore, but he still didn't like it.

He fell asleep quickly, with Marco in sight, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. "Sweet dreams, baby," he said, and everything went dark, and Ace was blissfully unaware.

"You can go, I'll be fine. I've seen it twice already," Marco said in a flat voice. He didn't want anyone else in there with them. He wanted to be alone with Ace, not want him to have an audience. He already didn't want Marco in there, but the older man had flat out refused not being with him, even if Ace was asleep.

Whiskey looked hesitant before nodding, reminding him to bring Ace to the infirmary once he was awake. Marco nodded, and Whiskey left the room, closing the door quietly and making it dark inside besides the light coming from the window.

It took around an hour for it to start, and when blood began to drip from Ace's nose, he turned his head to the side so the blood from his mouth would come out and he wouldn't choke on it. The dark liquid pooled on the pillow, seeping from his face until his ragged breathing slowly ceased, and he was completely still.

Marco couldn't help the tears, but quickly got to work. He had a washcloth and a bucket of water, and began wiping the blood off of his face and trying to get it out of his hairline before it crusted. He switched out the towel beneath his head, which was ruined, soaked with blood that wouldn't come out even if they bleached it.

He opened Ace's unseeing eyes and dripped water in them to try and get all of the blood out. It looked like he was crying pink tears as the blood cleared. By the end, he looked perfectly normal, although he'd need to brush his teeth and spit all of the blood still in his mouth out. Marco stayed with him for the four hours, silent and just staring at his feet, sitting with his back hunched over.

When Ace's fingers and toes twitched, Marco jerked around to watch. His body was moving before he started breathing, gasps that shook his whole body before he calmed, breathing normally. His eyes finally opened, hazy before he blinked a couple times and became aware. Marco was holding his hand, and Ace sat up slowly, looking absolutely exhausted.

"Morning, sunshine," Marco said. Ace smiled, but Marco flinched from the blood covered teeth. Ace tasted the blood in his mouth and scowled. Marco helped him up off of the bed and into the bathroom. He was a bit slow, but was able to walk on his own. Whiskey could wait, he wanted Ace awake and functioning before walking out in front of everyone, who knew what day it was. Ace rinsed out his mouth and used mouthwash until there was no more blood and it didn't taste of it anymore.

They headed to the infirmary, Marco holding Ace's hand. He was still tired, but was awake enough to walk fine. When they walked through the ship, everyone asked how he was. Marco answered the questions, just saying he had been asleep. It was painless when he was asleep, so that was a great idea, and they'd keep doing that for however many times it happened after this one.

Eight more days, and repeat. Ace was looking really down as he had his check up, taking his blood pressure, temperature, heart rate, etc. Thatch walked in halfway through it, carrying a tray of sauteed chicken over rice, Ace's favorite dish. Ace looked up at the smell and smiled. Whiskey even allowed him to eat in there, which was usually a no-no unless you were bedridden.

They were talking quietly before there was a crashing sound as Haruta slammed into the infirmary door. The others all looked at him in shock and silence. He had a bloody nose, but was grinning, waving a piece of paper around. "I might know the cure!" he shouted excitedly.

Whiskey was on him in a moment. "Do _not_ promise a cure to anything unless it is set in stone!" she shouted angrily. Haruta was shocked, but they all knew why. Ace and Marco's hopes skyrocketed in a fraction of a second. Haruta nodded, quelled by the head nurse, who stomped into her office to file away Ace's medical documents.

"So… a cure?" Ace fished carefully.

Haruta handed him a bounty poster of a man with bags under his eyes and a white spotted hat. "Who's this?" Ace asked. What was so important about this guy?

"I was searching devil fruits, and there is one called the ope-ope. It could probably get rid of your disease, all of it. But someone ate it! The marines had it slip through their fingers. Then there was an incident at Water 7, where this guy appeared. He ate the ope-ope fruit, meaning he can cure your sickness. Whiskey said it's still a disease, so he could treat it. I already told Pops, and we're steering to the Red Line to wait outside of Fishman Island for him to pop up!" Haruta explained excitedly.

Marco sighed. "And how will we get a Paradise rookie to lend us his power?" Ace had the same question as he ate his food Thatch had brought, who had been unexpectedly silent. Usually he'd be super excited. Maybe he was realizing he shouldn't get his hopes up, like Marco and Ace had.

"Offer him as a subordinate crew. Or an ally," Haruta replied instantly. "Pops said whatever we need to do, we'll do it." Marco looked to his lover, whose eyes were shadowed by his hat. He looked upset.

"I don't want to be a burden," he said, surprising everyone. "We don't just offer to be an ally to a stranger crew. What if he asks for more, or just refuses? Then what?"

Thatch answered immediately. "We kill him and find the ope-ope fruit once it reforms." Marco and Haruta nodded. "You're not a burden, Ace. We all love you, of course we want you to be happy and healthy." Ace sniffled, drying his eyes by heating his face up.

He was clenching his hands in his shorts. "I wish I didn't eat everything. But what if this has nothing to do with the disease anymore? What if it's, like, the only way I can live? What if my body is just dying, and every reset is making it so I live eight more days? What if that's the only way for me to continue to survive?"

Marco easily replied, "Well, once we find him, then we'll know." But he was bothered by what Ace said. What if this really was the only way he could live? And what if trying to somehow purge the disease from him would kill him permanently? He shook his head, not wanting to think about that.

As he resumed eating and soon finished his meal, Whiskey came out with the okay for him to leave. "Next time, I still want you to come in for a check up. And I want you to take these pills before bed," she said, putting a plastic bottle of white pills in his hand. "It will help with anxiety. Much of the crew is prescribed to it, especially those with PTSD."

Ace nodded, and stood up, wanting to leave. He went to find Pops with Marco, wondering what they were really going to do about Trafalgar Law. What kind of man was he? Ace had not heard of him before, but then again, the only person in Paradise he paid attention to was his brother. He didn't want to see Luffy while he was like this. He didn't want Luffy to ever find out, or he'd worry about him. Ace didn't want his little brother worrying about him while he was on his adventures.

The moment Whitebeard came into view, on his throne out on deck, Ace asked, "Are we really going to Fishman Island to wait?" Whitebeard laughed and nodded.

"Haruta's intel says the brat uses a submarine. A chase underwater would be pointless, so we'll alert those of Fishman Island to keep a look out. Of course, he could always just bypass getting coated, but Namur will stay under to keep watch. No matter how long we wait, getting you fixed up matters most."

Ace swallowed down a lump in his throat, and nodded. Marco was there, and kissed his forehead. "We're family," he said simply, and Ace nodded. He still felt bad for causing so much stress for his brothers. Seeing him die, losing him, then the commanders seeing him as a bloody mess. Felt bad for all of Pops' stress, no doubt. It was all because he ate a stupid bat.

But that explained the death, not the resets. What was the reason? Would he ever find out? Well, it didn't matter, as long as it went away. As long as things went back to how they were before. He walked to the railing, wondering if this would work. They would have to be lucky to catch Law in time, and if he used a submarine as his ship, then only Namur would be able to reach him.

A warm hand was put on his back, and he sighed at Marco's touch. "It's already lucky you're alive. A little more luck should be allotted considering what happens every eight days," he said simply. Ace nodded, composing himself.

Concerned pirates watched from all parts of the deck. He hated it, and turned around. "I'm fine, everyone. I have eight days left."

The crew didn't seem any more relaxed, but they seemed to understand he didn't want them to be so obvious about it, and they went back to their tasks, only discreetly staring. Ace noticed it, but he was grateful they were doing their best to not bother him. He'd be worried and paranoid if one of them died over and over, too.

-x-

"I'm sorry I haven't been intimate in awhile," Ace said before bed six days after his latest reset. Marco was changing into pajamas, while Ace was already in sleep pants and sitting on their bed. The blonde was shocked. It was very out of the blue, but it had been bothering Ace for a couple days. He was never in the mood, and he didn't know if Marco wanted to because he hadn't said anything about it.

He sat down next to Ace and smiled. "Baby, I'm fine with not being intimate for a couple weeks. That is at the bottom of my priority list right now," he assured him. Ace nodded, but was still growing.

"...But I'm always sad or distracted," he added.

"You were terminally ill, Ace. Even if you had gotten past that, it would still leave a lasting impression. Baby, you've died four times, in the span of a couple weeks. Anyone would be an emotional mess, and personally, I think you're doing very well. But it's just us now. You don't need to be strong for everyone. I can be your weak spot," Marco said softly, and Ace started crying.

"I don't wanna do this anymore," he lamented. Marco knew what he meant. Ace wasn't tired of living, but tired of the stress, anxiety and pain of resetting.

Marco gathered him in his arms and under the covers. He kissed his neck. "I know, baby. I know," he said gently, spooning Ace and rubbing soft circles on his bare chest. "You're doing so good, so brave. You're amazing, Ace."

"No more bats," Ace said sleepily. Marco chuckled and agreed, "No more bats."

-x-

Ace rubbed the area under his nose, feeling the phantom wetness that had become regular. He always felt like he was resetting, even though he'd been asleep through them the last two weeks. And the anxiety pills helped him sleep. But he was still fearful of the future. He didn't want to die. Not permanently. He was deathly terrified of dying now, though only Pops and Marco knew. Knew the way he hesitated before a fight. The frantically beating heart whenever a pirate raid happened.

He was still the commander, still strong, but where there was no hesitation before, well, it was there now. The fear didn't affect his work or tasks or duties, but it stayed in the back of his mind. And his father and lover didn't think he was weak, which was a huge weight off of his chest. It kept him going, knowing everyone had so much faith in him.

Knowing they all cared was wonderful, but he did wish they wouldn't worry over him. But, as much as he wanted them not to worry, he was always worried as well. They were at the Red Line, camping near where any ships leaving Fishman Island would surface. Jinbei was on a look out for any submarine passing by, though no one knew the full reason.

Not a single person outside of the crew knew of Ace's condition, and it would stay that way. Who knows who'd try to exploit this weakness of Ace's? Or any scientists wanting to experiment on him, try and find a cure to diseases or some shit. Well, that's what they'd say, when they really just wanted to mess with Ace.

Ace was washing the deck for a prank he'd pulled with Thatch, and he kept feeling it under his nose. But he wasn't due to reset for another three days. "You got an itch, there?" Thatch asked, taking a break from his mopping (not that he did it seriously in the first place).

The younger shook his head. "It's a thing I do now. I keep feeling like my nose is bleeding, but it never is," he explained simply, still mopping. "You should get to work now, Marco will bite your head off," Ace suggested. Thatch huffed, but knew he was right, and got back to work.

Haruta appeared and shouted for both of them to come inside just as they watched Namur jump over the side of the ship. Ace and Thatch abandoned their mops, leaving splatters of water across the deck as they ran inside, Ace hoping he was right in what he was thinking.

The two found Marco and Whitebeard surrounded by a handful of commanders. The moment Ace came into view, Marco hurried over. "Jinbei let us know, saw their ship. Namur's gone down to attempt a peaceful greeting," the first mate explained. Ace looked worried. Tomorrow was the reset day. What if he didn't need to go through it? What if he was fixed by then? But he scolded himself for getting his hopes up. If it didn't work, he'd be crushed.

This was their first tactic. To be peaceful, but they'd take drastic measures if Law refused. They all headed out on deck to wait for Namur or the submarine or both. It didn't take long before the yellow sub surfaced. Ace had never seen a submarine as a pirate ship before. It was interesting and unique.

The door opened, and Namur popped his head out of the water from beside the vessel. There was Law, with two hatted crew members and a polar bear mink behind him. He looked interested but also a bit worried. "You wished to talk to me, Whitebeard-ya?"

"Yes. We'd like to ask you for a favor," Pops said smoothly, but in a polite voice, not letting any of his power seep into his voice. Law was surprised. "We have a sick crew member that we can't find a cure for."

Law's eyebrows raised. "It must be a serious disease if you're only hope is a devil fruit," the rookie said, voice light and interested.

"He dies every eight days and then comes back to life," Marco said simply, standing on the railing, Ace standing beside him from just behind the railing, leaning against it. Law looked shocked, losing the cool look, before an almost creepy grin was on his face. Well, if he was interested, it didn't matter if he had a creepy grin.

"Bepo, take the ship down. We don't want marines finding us affiliated with Whitebeard," Law said, and agreed that he'd come onto the ship and check out the patient. He used his power to create a blue dome and then was there. "What was the last time he died?" he asked, getting straight to the point.

Ace said, "Seven days ago. Tomorrow will be another reset." Law was surprised it was a commander who'd gotten sick. He asked for Ace's medical records. While they would have protested to anyone else looking at any of their crew members' medical files, it would be a resounding _no_ , but this could be the only way to help Ace.

They all headed inside, Namur getting to move the ship away from the Red Line, at least in that area. They'd sunk more than a couple of pirate ships that arrived and then attempted to attack. They lead Law into the infirmary, and he looked around, looking impressed. Of course he would, they had superb medical equipment.

Whiskey came out, and wordlessly fetched Ace's files, knowing who this must be. Law sat on the nearest bed as he read through the findings after Ace got sick. "Any disease known to man should not cause you to be resurrected after dying. Face orifices bleeding… there are diseases that can cause that, and if you had multiple ones at the same time, it makes sense that that would happen… just not dying and coming back. Hmm," Law said, thinking out loud.

"Fire Fist-ya, please lay on the bed," Law said, putting the files down on the stand next to the current bed. Marco stopped him, and gave Law a hard stare. "I'm not stupid, I won't do anything to hurt him. He's my patient, now." Marco nodded, and Ace laid on the bed. Law got out his sword, but didn't draw it completely. "Scan," he said, and saw something no one else saw.

He looked shocked. "Your body is indeed riddled with disease. I'll take care of that first." It was over before it began, and Law said that the disease was gone after seeming to cut through the air. Ace felt no different. "But, that isn't what is causing your biggest problem. I'd like to observe him when he passes and comes back."

Whitebeard nodded. "That is fine. It will come midday tomorrow. Whiskey, please take a blood sample," the captain said. They didn't believe the disease was gone unless their nurse confirmed it.

"Then I will come tomorrow morning." He gave Whitebeard a baby den den mushi. "If anything happens, call me and I'll be here in a moment. Don't look so surprised, he's my patient and I'll treat him."

The commanders thanked him, and he nodded, looking back at Ace with hungry eyes. He really was a weird guy, but was clearly serious about the whole thing. Ace assumed he was just interested in seeing something so different, even if it was something terrible for him.

Law left, going back to his own ship, which then sank under. They didn't think he'd leave unannounced. If he would, he wouldn't have given them the den den.

The day passed slowly until Whiskey barged into the galley while Ace was sitting at the table, drinking a coffee. "It's gone," she said simply, and Ace turned around, a questioning look on his face. "You're not sick with the disease or diseases anymore. But Law is right, those diseases wouldn't have caused the resets."

Ace was shocked, and smiled. No more bat sickness. He still was humiliated by that being his downfall. Or what seemed like his downfall. "Now we can only wait for the verdict about the resets," she said softly, sitting next to him and not mentioning the tears streaming down Ace's face. "I'm sorry we couldn't treat you," Whiskey said quietly.

"Not your fault," Ace said, rubbing his eyes. "It was my fault."

Whiskey sighed. "You didn't know, Ace. it's not your fault. And we misdiagnosed you from the start. If only we could have figured out what it _was…_ "

Ace frowned at her. "Even if you had learned it was fatal, there was nothing you could have done. You know that." She nodded, knowing he was right. There was nothing they could do about it, only have Law help them.

The news of Ace's cure was celebrated around the ship, though Ace wasn't feeling so festive. All of the doctors were now saying the diseases shouldn't have resurrected him like it did. So it wasn't over. He couldn't bring himself to drink at all at dinner. He also didn't want to mess it up for Law the next day.

He only went to sleep after Marco read him a book, like a child, leaning against him while he read. His voice was soft so it lulled him to sleep. He hadn't had a narcoleptic attack that day so that was nice. Maybe Law could cure that as well. Though it wasn't high on the list of priorities.

-x-

Marco was sitting on the bed next to an unconscious Ace, Law sitting against the bedroom wall. Ace had been sedated, and now they were waiting for the reset in silence. Neither said a thing until Law stood up and used that "scan" move. Marco looked down and saw Ace had stopped breathing, and then remembered the disease was gone, meaning he wouldn't bleed, but he still died.

Law grinned, and Marco was a bit irate he seemed so happy. "I was right, there's nothing in this world that can resurrect a dead person," he said simply, sheathing his sword. Marco frowned, and looked pointedly at Ace. "He's not dead."

"He's not breathing at all," Marco pointed out.

"Room," he said, using his power, and then got his sword out again. "It's all thanks to this," he said, holding what was clearly a dead parasite. "This was in his brain stem. It made his body go into extreme hibernation. He wasn't dead, but the diseases he was housing were what caused the bleeding. It was an unfortunate mix."

Marco was shocked. "But his presence disappeared! He died in my arms and his presence completely left!"

"Extreme hibernation. Meaning he was basically leaning over the brink of death. It's not surprising that being so close to death would erase his presence. But you can feel it now, right?" Marco looked down and couldn't believe he hadn't reacted to the return of his presence and steady breathing. "He should be fine now, but I'll stick around for the rest of today just to make sure."

Marco did a valiant job keeping the tears in. He took Ace's hand in his, and Law sat back down. They were quiet again until Ace woke up once the anesthesia wore off. He opened his eyes and looked around.

He felt different. He didn't still feel hazy or out of it. It felt like he'd just woken up from being asleep. "Hey, Ace. We found the culprit," Marco said softly, and Law brought it over. It was on the cover of a hardback book, neither of them touching it anymore. "Apparently you were never actually dead. This thing made you so deeply asleep it turned your bodily functions off."

Ace didn't see how that was possible, and was about to say so, when Law said, "It's the New World. Impossible things happen all the time." Well, that was true, but still. Surely his body would have died without breathing? He then hesitantly asked if he had bled. "No, that was the disease's work. Once that was out, you won't be bleeding again."

"But what about the first time I died? I was out for days," Ace pointed out, still not believing things had never been as serious as they thought. He hadn't died? All of the stress about it was for nothing? While he was glad he'd never actually died, it was still frustrating.

"That was the first episode of this thing. It was the slowest going," Law replied simply. "I should go tell your medical professionals." Marco nodded, and he and Ace get off of the bed, holding hands. Ace looked and felt confused. Was it really over? He didn't want to get his hopes up, but he so wanted to believe Law. Desperately, he wanted to think he'd never died.

The three walked to the infirmary, where many commanders were waiting. Law headed straight for Whiskey and Tami. They put the parasite in a petri dish, and Law wrote down the whole diagnosis to put into Ace's file.

"Wait… he's fixed?" Thatch asked dumbly.

"Should be. This was what was causing him to 'die'. I've never encountered one in real life, but there is a book about parasites in the Grand Line, and I have it. I'd lend it to you but I only have one copy," Law said smoothly. The infirmary burst into cheers, and Ace was hugged by all of his brothers, while Whitebeard laughed. Law was clearly surprised by the behavior of the yonko crew and captain, but said nothing.

Marco turned to Law and asked what he wanted in return for doing this for them. "Nothing. I had fun, I've never come across someone with this concoction of illnesses." Marco couldn't see how it had been fun, but it was nice he didn't want them to pay or give him anything in return.

"Are you sure you don't even want to be allies? Our crew will gladly help yours if you ever get in a pinch," Pops said honestly. Law thought for a moment.

"No, it would look bad for you if you allied with me. Though the sentiment is appreciated," Law replied. Ace wondered what he was going to do that would look bad, but he assumed they'd find out in the newspaper some time. Whitebeard conceded without asking what he meant.

"Law, thank you very much," Ace said with a bow.

Law responded, "No need to bow, Fire Fist-ya. If any complications arise, call me on the den den mushi." Ace nodded, and the commanders watched Law leave in varying degrees of tears. Many were looking at the parasite as it rested in the closed container.

"Wait, so does this mean that the disease wouldn't have killed Ace? It was just unfortunate timing?" Izo asked, bringing confusion to the forefront of everyones' minds.

Ace asked, "Does it matter anymore? Can we just push this mess behind us?" Thatch nodded, and said that they should try to move on. The others agreed, though many were still curious. When the news was told to everyone else, cheers broke out, and everyone let out a collective sigh in relief.

Ace still kept his hopes down a bit. They'd truly know if it was over in eight days. Law's submarine left the moment he got off of the Moby Dick. Marco walked up behind Ace and wrapped his arms around him, nosing his hair. "You were just sleeping with some unfortunate effects of the diseases," he said softly. "You never died."

"I feel like I did," Ace replied, looking at his hands. "I just hope it's all over. And if it's not, then you won't have to see me like that. All bloody and sick. It must have been harder for you out of everyone else, being there with me each time it happened…"

Marco swayed them back and forth. "I wasn't going to leave you just because it was an unpleasant sight." He threaded his fingers with Ace's. "I'll help you through whatever you need me to, without hesitation." Ace smiled softly and nodded.

"I know," he said, kissing Marco's cheek. "Thank you." Marco smiled warmly in response.

-x-

Everyone was stressed eight days later. The ship was almost silent as everyone waited for something to, or not to, happen. Ace was in his room with Marco and Pops, both of them offering silent reassurance. Ace stayed wide awake the whole time, and didn't know if he'd be inp ina again if it didn't leave. If he'd still "hibernate".

Marco was brushing his hair, and Pops was reading. By dinner time, when nothing happened, they were each hungry, and Ace was in shock the rest of the night as the day came to a close, and he was perfectly fine. He went to bed with Marco in peace, finally believing it was behind them. He was okay again. He wouldn't bleed from the face anymore. He wouldn't have a splitting headache, or wake up exhausted. Didn't have to hide anymore, hide his state from his brothers.

He didn't need to worry or worry anyone else anymore. Marco wiped his tears away with a smile. "Everything will go back to normal, now." Ace nodded, and wiped his tears on the pillow. "You will still have times where you get scared. That's how cancer survivors feel, like the sickness will come back at any time. Even if it was never dying, it was still traumatizing."

Ace nodded. "I'll keep taking the anxiety meds," he replied.

"Good. Let's go to sleep, and then we can get back to pirating like normal tomorrow." Ace smiled and agreed, turning onto his other side so Marco could spoon him. He could feel wetness on his back from Marco, but said nothing of it, knowing it was extremely hard for Marco, and that he kept it inside so as not to upset Ace.

No more bats. No more parasites, and Ace would make sure he wasn't careless anymore in the New World. He was going to be practical and skeptical of things. Thatch would be bummed, but Ace wasn't going to get ill like that ever again, would live healthily. He knew Marco would like that, too. Ace being responsible. At least, with his own health that is.

Stupid fucking bat.

* * *

**I didn't tag Law in this since it would have been so obvious how it ended, but my fav (most likely) insomniac/grump saved the day! I made up the whole parasite thingy since the Grand Line in crazy, so who knows if something like that existed?**

* * *

**Sixcupsofcoffeetogo: I'm glad!**

**OtakuGirl2176: Thank you! I put everyone through so much in this one. Poor everyone, especially Ace and Marco. But everything ended up working out in the end.**

**Llama: Yeah, my babies went through hell. But they didn't have to go through it too long.**

**Iris Viggiano: I'm glad you cried. Mwahaha. Sorry it was only two parts, but I couldn't make it any longer, sadly.**


End file.
